


Workplace Etiquette

by BloodyCorvids



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Hopeful Ending, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Prompt Fic, or it could just be stiles knowing already, sorta - Freeform, up to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 08:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1771747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyCorvids/pseuds/BloodyCorvids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: Stiles gets called into his boss's office and at first he thinks its because someone finally caught him pilfering the left over muffins from the break room at closing, but really Derek, with his super secret werewolf hearing, has been listening to the loud-mouth intern talk about his ass and scruff and Derek makes all these suggestions about work place harassment just to have the satisfaction of watching Stiles squirm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Workplace Etiquette

**Author's Note:**

> So I tried my best on this, but I'm not the best writer just yet. After sitting on this fic half written for an absurdly long time, I decided to finish it.
> 
> I did leave out a bit of the prompt, mostly because I forgot about it and don't want to add it back in. Oops.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is very appreciated.

“No, but _Scott,_ ” Stiles cried, wrapping his arm around his friend’s shoulders and shaking him, “have you seen his _scruff?_ I mean, who even has that!” he exclaimed loudly, earning him more than one disapproving look from his coworkers who were actually working, typing away at their computers and taking calls.

 Carefully extracting himself from Stile’s grip, Scott laughed and shook his head. “So you’ve said every day since, oh, the very first day we got ourselves hired here.” He snorted, rolling his eyes as Stiles gave a squawk of indignation. He opened his mouth to say otherwise when Scott raised a brow at him, and his mouth snapped shut with a _click_ of teeth.

 “That’s what I thought,” he grinned, before pointing to the cubicle a few chairs over. “Now get back to work before you get in trouble, and try to concentrate on working instead of your boss’s ass,” Scott said, spinning on his chair while shoving Stiles off his perch on the corner of his desk. Stiles fell with a yelp, landing haphazardly in a heap and earning himself another round of disapproving glares. Standing, he dusted himself off embarrassedly and jabbed his thumb towards his cubicle.

 “I’ll just, uhm, go work now,” he mumbled sheepishly and scurried off to his computer. Booting it up, he tapped his fingers into the fake wood of his desk, staring blankly at the loading sign while totally not thinking about Derek Hale’s ass. He was totally not thinking about it, nope, not at all.

 When the machine was finally done loading, proudly broadcasting the ‘Hale Inc.’ logo that Stiles hadn’t gotten around to changing yet, the man clicked excitedly on the company email icon that was declaring he had messages. Scrolling through the normal, everyday notices and a few emails from Scott probably packed with GIFs, Stiles stilled when he noticed one from Derek.

 Gnawing on his lip nervously, he double clicked on the blank subject header and opened up the message. Feeling the blood drain out of his face at the four simple words, Stiles leaned back and laced his hands behind his head.

**‘See me immediately**

**-Derek ‘**

Shit. Shit shit and double shit. Derek had totally noticed him taking home all of the extra muffins from the break room once everyone had left for the day. He was so getting fired for theft. Scott would be absolutely devastated. Stiles was devastated. He wouldn’t get to talk to Scott every day or see Derek’s broody face or watch his ass as he walked into his office, all because he had decided that muffins were fantastic, and really, shouldn’t someone eat them before they got totally stale?

 He didn’t want to be fired. Being fired and jobless sounded like a terrible idea. Now that he thinks about it, though, most people don’t want to be fired. Grabbing the nearest pencil, he gnawed anxiously on the eraser and stared at the email some more. Maybe ‘immediately’ meant ‘never’ and ‘Derek’ meant ‘Not Derek’. Or something. Hurrah for wishful thinking.

 After contemplating his life choices for an unreasonable amount of time, he quickly closed out of the email and pushed back from his desk, hoping that it wouldn’t be the last time he got to sit at it. Oh god, what if it was the last time he got to sit at it? Damnit, he was so screwed. Standing, he gave his desk a sad little pat before walking towards the elevator so he could go to Derek’s office on the top-fucking-floor. Seriously, he couldn’t have a nice close office for him to do the fired walk-of-shame to and from. No, it had to be the farthest fricking office away.

 Luckily, no one was in the elevator when he got to it, and he managed to get it closed before Wendy, the overly-touchy flirt from the next office, got on. Leaning against the glass elevator wall and trying not to look at how high he was – seriously, did they not think these things through? – he tapped nervously at his thigh with his fingers.

 Sure, Stiles was beyond pleased at being able to see Derek and his fine ass; overjoyed, actually. But there was nothing even remotely friendly about that email. “See me immediately,” he grouched, his tone deepening to match the timbre that was Derek’s voice. “He didn’t even say ‘please’,” he snarked to himself, barely remembering to stagger out of the elevator when it opened up on the top floor with a frankly _offensively_ cheerful chirp.

 Muttering to himself about how impolite it was to have the elevators be more upbeat than their users, he dawdled on his way to Derek’s office. He knew where it was; in fact, it was rather hard to miss it. Large, beautiful doors inlaid into glass that could _change transparency_ at the end of the hall. Which, admittedly, was really freaking cool. He’d probably freak out about it more so if he wasn’t scared for his life. Well, scared for his job’s life.

 Licking his lips nervously, Stiles decided to stop postponing the inevitable. He was going to get in trouble. He was _probably_ going to be fired. **_Suck it up, Stilinksi,_** he thought. Drawing in a deep breath, he walked to the doors and slowly drew them open, wondering offhandedly if there was someone who’s job was to make the door handles shiny at all times. The handles always seemed was to bright to be natural. Maybe they’d rehire him as a doorknob cleaner. Shaking his head, he shut the doors behind him and looked towards the desk.

 Alright, looking at the desk was a bad decision. Terrible. Because there was Derek, annoyingly broad shoulders stooped over the mahogany wooden desk as he scratched away at some contract or another. He is, however, sitting down. So his ass isn’t showing. Small mercies and all that, because Stile would _die._ Literally die.

 Standing there for a couple seconds, Stiles twitched, unsure. It seemed like Derek was busy. Maybe it was all a mistake. Maybe he could just go back down-

“Sit,” Derek muttered distractedly, pointing his pen towards the large, padded chair across from him before flipping it nimbly in his fingers (no fair; Stiles tried that all the time and he dropped it) and going back to writing. Swallowing, Stiles inched towards the chair cautiously and sat down, frowning slightly at the feeling that the chair was trying to eat him. The thing was huge. Way too big for a normal-sized person. It was probably on purpose, now that he thought about it. Intimidate the enemy and all that.

 After a few tense minutes of silence besides the gentle scritching of the pen on paper, Derek set down the pen and looked up, folding his hands together under his chin and just staring at him with his unfairly green eyes. Shifting uncomfortably, Stile’s flailed his hands in a grand gesture because he had to break the silence, it was driving him mad.

 Unfortunately, his near-panicked flailing, he slapped the coffee cup near his hand. Right towards Derek and his papers. While he quickly snatched the papers up inhumanly fast, there was nothing to be done about moving himself out of the way. Stiles watched in horror as the coffee flew through the air and splashed all over his beautiful, pressed suit, completely covering it.

 “Oh shit oh shit oh shit!” Stiles screeched, standing up as his hands fluttered desperately for something to wipe it up with. Finding nothing, he looked wide-eyed at his boss in dismay. Raising a brow at the frantic man in front of him, Derek smoothly unbuttoned the suit, unlaced the tie, and pulled everything off from his waste up, leaving him half naked in his office. Stiles almost died. When he turned around to toss the soiled clothing into the waste basket, he was sure he did die. He had died and gone to heaven because that was a tattoo on Derek’s back and wow, he never knew about that kink before now.

 “Oh god I’m so sorry. I am so fired shit I’m sorry,” he babbled, nearly trembling while Derek looked at him in vague amusement. “Stiles,” he said after a moment, making the man in question freeze in his freak out. “Calm down.” Letting out a shaky laugh, Stiles scrubbed his face with his hands and sank into the chair again, feeling embarrassed and dismal. He wouldn’t be getting that knob-cleaning job anymore, he bet.

 “Now, for the reason I brought you in here,” Derek mused, leaning his hip against the desk and crossing his arms. “I think you should stop talking about me the way you do down in the workplace. It’s very distracting. And if you could stop with the tapping,” he waved a hand at Stiles’s fingers that were tapping nervously at the chair arm, “it’s also very distracting.”

 Looking down at his hands, Stiles stilled them, only to look up at Derek in suspicion. “I only do that when you’re not around, how would you-“ he broke off suddenly and gaped at Derek who now had a smug-looking grin on his face.

 “You’re a werewolf! I thought I knew all of them in the building!” pointing an accusing finger at Derek, Stiles frowned. “Why don’t I know this?” Derek shrugged, grabbing a piece of paper and scribbling something down before grabbing Stiles by the wrist (woah) and flipping his hand, burying the paper in his palm.

“Get back to work,” he all but commanded, walking around to sit down at his desk again. Stiles gaped at him in shock before nodding and all but scampering away before he changed his mind. He was almost out the door when he heard Derek yell, “and if you wanted the muffins, you could have just asked.” Flushing a deep scarlet, Stiles blurted out something he didn’t actually remember and slammed the door shut behind him before remembering the paper in his hand.

 Unfolding it, his brows flew into his hairline as he read it.

    **‘Call me sometime’**

Followed by a long number that looked awfully important. Grinning in a frankly mad way, he shoved the paper into his pocket and all but skipped back to his desk, not seeing the way Derek laughed behind the glass as he watched him.


End file.
